


Stella

by Sys



Series: Food & Drink related one shots [8]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 09:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16829773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sys/pseuds/Sys
Summary: I've decided to write a little series of food & drink related one shots for various fandoms. This is one of them. :)





	Stella

There’ll be another woman. And part of him almost wants to say that. But Blair’s still seriously heartbroken. And he’s been there. So he doesn’t. Instead he accepts the silence as Blair leaves for his room with an expression that’s so unlike him that he’s glad to know that it will be temporary. Should be temporary. Was temporary, the last time it happened. It takes time, of course. But he’ll get over it. And then he’ll be back to ceaseless babbling and cheerful grins. And he might... no he won’t miss this. Seeing Blair miserable is like watching a kitten that got drenched in the rain. You’d need a heart of stone to be comfortable with the sight. 

He goes about his business for a while, but eventually it’s time to eat. And with Blair not resurfacing for dinner, there’s little choice but to cook by himself. Make sure that the man eats, at least. Stella was pretty. And from what little he’s seen of her, also smart and quite charming. But anyone who’d use Blair’s connections to try and gather intel on their case isn’t worth starvation. 

Having a word with her about it in private was awkward in all sorts of ways. But she’d accepted his offer to take off rather than force Blair to see the ugly truth. Which, looking back, probably wasn’t the right way to handle it. Maybe allowing him to be angry at the deception would’ve helped this heal faster. Except it could’ve had the opposite effect. Man’s taken enough blows to his ego in the past couple of months.

When he’s done cooking he heads to Blair’s room to offer him a plate. Finds him curled up on the bed, looking, if possible, worse yet. She wasn’t worth that. But if he explained that now he couldn’t tell how his interference would be received. _He_ wouldn’t appreciate it, if their roles were reversed. At least not initially. Maybe after thinking it through. Mingling with the man’s love life isn’t really his business. Protecting his best friend is. 

“I made spaghetti,” he offers, ignoring the telltale signs of unshed tears as Blair turns to face him. It’s been a _week_. “You should have some.”

“Thanks, man, but...” 

The lack of appetite is even worse than the subdued state. The man’s had too little, or nothing, for each meal he’s witnessed for days now. Unlikely that his appetite’s any better when nobody prompts him to eat. 

He sits on the bed, regretting the way tousling Blair’s hair or giving him a hug is so much harder when he thinks about it first. Blair looks genuinely confused. 

“Are you going to feed me?”

“Well I can’t let you starve, Chief.” He smiles weakly. “I’d miss you.”

“At least somebody would.” 

He stabs into the spaghettis and twirls a reasonably sized portion around the fork. Holds it in front of Blair’s mouth and is gratified by the bemused grin stealing to his friend’s face. It’s a start.


End file.
